


ab•end

by halfaday



Series: (the darkest shades in you) [3]
Category: SF9 (Band)
Genre: M/M, but no tears at all so thats a progress, lapslock because im lazy and no matter how hard i try i always forget to add a cap here and there so, ment of being stabbed, this is set before part2 of this au, top notch summary i know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 05:15:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21368749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfaday/pseuds/halfaday
Summary: it causes more fright than harm.
Relationships: Kang Chanhee | Chani/Kim Seokwoo | Rowoon
Series: (the darkest shades in you) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1530527
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	ab•end

**Author's Note:**

> from the prompt #11 of whumptober 2019, stitches.
> 
> \+ already mentioned it in the tags but: this is lapslock. however if it bothers someone just tell me in the comments and i'll change it to Regular Typing!!

it looks like chanhee's glaring sadly — it's hard to tell from afar, without his glasses on, but seokwoo is ninety-nine percent sure his eyebrows are drawn into a frown. it doesn't matter: the sight of him makes seokwoo's already weakened heart flutter, and he smiles, as much as he can.

'hi.'

it takes chanhee a few seconds, a few heartbeats before he fully steps into the room. the sound his footsteps make is distinct without being loud, calmly advancing towards him, and it's with a slightly guarded face that he stops before seokwoo, his hand coming to reach his, pressing it as if seeing him before his very eyes weren't enough to confirm he's alive.

seokwoo expects a comment, sarcastic or humorous, something that would jab him without hurting. a prick to his self-esteem; a rose with petals of relief, sepals of concern, thorns that carry both awkwardly — but the words that leave chanhee's mouth are simply honest, straightforward:

'you scared me,' he says. softly, as if seokwoo were still in danger, as if his heart wasn't beeping loudly on the monitor by the bed. seokwoo doesn't quite know how to react, if he should be gentle or joke about what happened. it was his initial plan, but the hand in his is cold, loosely but securely holding his — seokwoo opts to follow its lead, to simply be true to himself.

'i'm sorry.'

he caresses chanhee's hand as he whispers the apology, slides his fingers between his, looks up to meet his gaze. chanhee's eyes are an ocean of unworded feelings, too delicate for him to express them, a little too real for the both of them.

what his heart desires to say can wait, until the emotions pushing forward do not exist anymore, until they can talk about this lightly.

'what happened?'

'we got a call about our perps hiding in an old warehouse. decided to go after warning the captain; sally went with us. three skilled, armed cops against two little perps, what could go wrong, am i right?'

chanhee makes a face — _ yeah, right. _

'well, many things. they were armed. one of them had a gun — unloaded, but he put up a fight once sally disarmed him. i let her and youngkyun take care of him while i ran after the other, who'd fled. you can guess by my wound what was his weapon of choice.'

the disapproving expression chanhee is wearing wanes, making way for a sadder, worried one. he sighs, casts a glance to seokwoo's chest before looking up.

'did he knock you out?'

seokwoo shakes his head.

'no. simply got me bleeding out pretty good.'

'i see.' a pause, then, 'so, whom do i thank for saving your ass?'

seokwoo grins.

'who do you think? myself, of course.'

it's like they're suddenly kids, like the danger seokwoo was in does not exist anymore, like nothing matters apart from the strength and the willingness with which they stand up to the big, wide world: chanhee opens his mouth, his eyes forming two round, comical saucers, going from the stab wound to seokwoo then back to the wound.

'no way.'

'yes way.'

'no. way. how?'

'he was waiting for me when i caught up with him. ambushed me. he gave me a few punches, missed them all, but he somehow managed to have us rolling on the floor. that's when he stabbed me. while he had the upper hand. and for a while, he did. it really hurts, you know? getting stabbed.'

chanhee frowns, seems to hesitate between laughing and actually acting his age. he opts for being neither, slouching like a teenager who pretends he's done it all when the only danger he encountered had him as a background character.

'yeah, no shit. it's almost like knives are dangerous. did you know that?'

seokwoo ignores him, squeezes his hand, impatient to finish his story.

'anyway. he got cocky, became convinced he had me. stood up. in what i will honestly call a desperate attempt, i grasped at his legs. managed to pull him to the floor. and then boom. the rest is history.'

'how? tell me how it ends.'

'i… punched him. just once, just enough to get him a little drowsy. i know that's not going to be good on trial, but… he did try to kill me. youngkyun and sally arrived right after.'

he makes no comment on how, for a brief moment, he feared he would bleed out before reaching the hospital, how, as he fought back, his first thought was that he still had things to say to chanhee, stories he hadn't the time to tell him during lunch, an _ i love you _ that burnt the tip of his tongue, as if dying before being able to tell him this would kill him a second time. he doesn't say all of this, doesn't admit that he worried about chanhee's reaction, to his potential death then to his hospitalisation, a lesser event but still something distressing. just like chanhee and the thousand and one emotions flowing through him and swimming in his eyes, he keeps quiet, locks it all away for lighter times, when death is far away from them, and the only thing they worry about is each other. not now, not even tomorrow; but someday, sometime.

for now, he doesn't need to speak: they both know, to a certain extent, both understand each other. words aren't needed — death remains in the room, stands in the corners of their eyes as they glance at each other, lays its hand on theirs and settles in each and every silence they create. words aren't needed — just like seokwoo worried about leaving chanhee alone, he knows chanhee did too, worried sick about his well-being; and he's certain it's the same for chanhee, knows, by the soft squeeze chanhee's hand gives his, that chanhee is aware of all of this.

'it's highly irresponsible,' chanhee says, wisely concludes. 'what you did was really dumb.'

'i know.'

chanhee sighs, as if he's unsatisfied with seokwoo's reply. seokwoo opens his mouth to add more, to bend to his age and how he's supposed to act — but chanhee shakes his head, and tilts up seokwoo's with his free hand, strokes his face then his hair.

'but who knows what would have happened if you hadn't done this,' he whispers, quietly taking seokwoo's side.

something blooms in seokwoo's chest. what, he doesn't know exactly — it's simply _ something: _ warmth that does not quite feel warm, a little twist in his stomach, almost imperceptible; a whisper, a touch, that grazes his heart and makes it shiver, that unabashedly speeds up the heartbeats the monitor has been counting, making seokwoo flush and look away, suddenly too shy to meet chanhee's gaze.

chanhee doesn't care: his hand continues its exploration, lost in the jungle that is seokwoo's hair, and his voice is soft when he speaks again, a mix of fondness and peace seokwoo has learnt to recognise.

'what you did was reckless and dangerous. i'd like to hear you promise you'll never do that again, but…'

'that's not possible,' seokwoo finishes.

'indeed.' chanhee's hand gets stuck, tangled in a knot, and he smiles, works his way through it smoothly. 'and the same goes to making you promise you'll survive this kind of thing.'

seokwoo swallows — doesn't know what to answer. this is the closest chanhee has been to admitting he worries. he often says the truth, is honest in everything he does and says, but he's shy when it comes to emotions, when it comes to wording feelings that will make him vulnerable. it's not that he's scared — or at the very least, being hurt is not what he fears: seokwoo has shown him a thousand times he doesn't intend to hurt the parts of his heart that he reveals. but there is unpredictability in laying oneself bare, in confessing the truth; small swirls in the calm sea he has created, ones that do not have the power to remain tranquil. they _ know, _do not need words to understand each other; yet words have a power glances and touches do not have, the ability to make everything and much more tangible. reality: turning the unsaid into something that exists, that cannot be modified — that is what he fears, what seokwoo too, from time to time, turns his back on. admitting they feel, admitting they worry, is allowing life, and death, to mingle with them; is, in a way, admitting they have but the tiniest control over who they are and what they do; that what they have now, might change in the future, might shatter into pieces tomorrow. telling seokwoo he worried — is admitting seokwoo is not immortal; is letting go of the thread of life, and watching it being spun, measured and cut. is acknowledging how ephemeral they are, and how, no matter how happy they are today, tomorrow might be the darkest day of their lives. it is letting their tangled threads run and run, and blindly walking upon them, looking at each other instead of the pitfalls and happiness that lie upon their path — surrendering to life itself, and trusting it as they fall. there are a million threads beneath their feet, a thousand ones in their linked hands — as chanhee speaks, seokwoo sees them all.

'i won't ask you to try,' chanhee says, as if they were discussing homework that has to be done or dishes that have to be washed. his gaze is calm, confident; sees all the obstacles before them, and pays them no heed, trusts himself and seokwoo to be fine. he smiles, and leans down, lays a kiss on seokwoo's forehead. 'thank you,' he whispers. 'for staying alive.'

he's so small — fingertips that never reach seokwoo's, a head he can only lean on seokwoo's shoulder and a distance he softly bridges when he tiptoes — yet as he smiles, seokwoo thinks he stands tall, believes there is nothing stronger than him. he is safe, with him, his hand in his and his heart in the other; whatever lies ahead, under and above, they will face it when they have to. they have each other.

'i love you,' seokwoo whispers, unable to thank chanhee and word how much he worries about him, worries about a thousand things that might happen; hoping the three words will be enough. 'i love you.'

chanhee smiles, cups his face and kisses him on the lips, gently, like he's done so many times when even touches cannot convey what he means — seokwoo understands him nevertheless, kisses back to tell him he does.

'i love you too,' he whispers against his lips. 'i love you too.'


End file.
